Today is starting off insanely. I woke at 10:30am, for the second time, feeling serene. The first time that I awoke, this morning,was at 5am to let the older dog out to piss. I'm not sure if I was serene at that time or not; I was a bit groggy, as I'm sure that you can well understand.

I knew that I had a pile of shit at the end of the hallway to pick up, because I had seen it on one of my later trips to the bathroom. The pile looked fairly solid, it would be an easy pickup, so I wasn't worried about it. Well, when I got to the end of the hallway, and looked in my son's room, I saw another huge pile of shit, and this one was not put together so well as the one in the hallway. I would need the bucket and brush, the bucket filled with hot water and soap to get that one up off the carpet. Morisson did not come running to me when I woke up this morning and try to stick his nose in my hand. He hid under my desk on his blanket; so who do I suspect is guilty of this defecation infraction? It's really not his fault. Though we got out a lot, yesterday; me and both of the dogs in the vehicle for rides to here and there, we did not take our usually long walk where Morisson gets to relieve himself on neighbor's lawn, in their bushes, and in that long green grass that grow so prevelantly about here. (I mostly pick up his poop, so don't get alarmed. We saw this guy yesterday, the dogs, my daughter and I who let his dog shit all over some grass that didn't belong to him and just walked off leaving the stinky gift for someone else to find. I joked that we should pull up to him and his just relieved dog and hand him one of the blue bags that we use to pick up our dogs shit. Scout said no way, though she did laugh a lot about the thought.) So, where was I? Oh yeah, so I woke up all calm, happy, ready to face the new day, thankful to be breathing the air of a new day and somewhere between where I woke up happy and the point where I sat down at my laptop to start creating great works of literature, something had set in; a mood. A mood can fuck my day, if I let it; and sometimes I can't but let it, no matter how hard I try. Isolation is usually not a good thing to do on such an occaisson, because then I dwell in my head instead of getting involved with what is going on in the outside world instead. I was going to continue with this shit tale, but Scout just called and we have decided to hunt Betty and Cynthia down at one of the antique shops that they are hitting in N. Georgia and give Betty some flowers and coffee, a week early, for Mothers' Day. The Lord works in mysterious ways; I have been given a great opportunity to get out of my head. Bye.